


describing sexuality in a vacuum

by foxika (kylonaberrie)



Series: clone-centric abo: one-shots from the discord [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alpha Cody, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Asexuality, Clone Trooper Cadets (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Culture (Star Wars), M/M, Multi, Omega Fox, Omega Wolffe, POV Second Person, clone-centric, teenagers being stupid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27731353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kylonaberrie/pseuds/foxika
Summary: fox's first heat, and a conversation he's been putting off.
Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox/CC-3636 | Wolffe, CC-2224 | Cody/CC-1010 | Fox, CC-2224 | Cody/CC-1010 | Fox/CC-3636 | Wolffe, CC-2224 | Cody/CC-3636 | Wolffe
Series: clone-centric abo: one-shots from the discord [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2028481
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	describing sexuality in a vacuum

**Author's Note:**

> prompted from the [clone haven discord](https://discord.gg/hWKVjv3V9x) ;0 we be Writing Things & Sharing Ideas
> 
> please note: chose not to use archive warnings bc there is no onscreen underage sex, but this fic involves introspection about teenage sexuality & there is mention of offscreen teenagers having sex w each other.
> 
> additional warning for mentions of ethically iffy science & decommissioning & all that kamino shit

The Kaminoans are still researching the subject when you start to present at seven, and that means tests, lots of tests in a wide range of invasiveness, things you're not used to with all these bodily changes, and you're sweaty and uncomfortable and recovering on your open bunk, loathe to be open to the others' comments but too hot even with the ventilation when you shut yourself away. There's this distinct, knotting, churning feeling in your stomach, this bloated, needy feeling as well, and the ghost sensation of the probes, and furthermore you're just  _ too hot, _ your tunic soaked with sweat. You've given up on trying to get comfortable. Showering didn't help and pissing didn't help the strange pressure and you've heard mum from the overseers so you guess this is just normal now, or at least for the time being.

You really, really hope this is something that goes away, and not something you have to learn to live with. Running drills, practices, or even sitting up right now sounds hellish.

Someone paws at the fingers of your hand dangling from your fourth row bunk, arm over the edge. You groan and pick up your head to glare down at whoever the fuck, you do  _ not _ want to be touched right now.

It's Wolffe. Fuck Wolffe. You bare your teeth at him in warning.

'That bad, huh?'

'Fuck you.' He was the first in your squad to present, he should fucking understand. Instead he puts one foot on the ladder and hoists himself up on your bunk with you, sits half on your legs cause there hasn't been enough room for two since before you were command track. You groan at him again, plant your face against your mattress and hope he goes away on his own. His weight on your legs isn't as horrible as you feared, still uncomfortable with all this fucking heat, but it doesn't make your skin crawl. You can smell him so much more than normal.

He doesn't go away on his own. Instead he picks at your sweaty tunic, ballooning it against your back as much as it'll give. 'You know what helps?'

'What.' You're still ticked off, but alright, he has your interest.

'Well, first of all, take this off.' He picks at your tunic again, forcing another blessed puff of air against your back.

'No. It's wet so it's cool. Also you're sitting on me.'

'Fine.' He huffs irritatedly and instead puts his hands up under your tunic to press against your back, the fabric runching uncomfortably. You expect to hate it but it's actually nice, the skin on skin contact, really fucking nice, enough to draw your attention just to that for a few seconds and for a hum to escape you. 'See? Quit being a bitch. I've already done this.'

'Bitch yourself,' you say into the mattress. 'You were  _ not _ this bad.' You mostly remember him tossing and turning and being grumpy and antagonising the fuck out of Kote, and if he were like you are now he would  _ not _ have been up to that fight.

'You're right, I was nowhere near this sweaty. Something must be wrong with you, Fox.'

You hiss a warning. Too low of a blow for right now, your nerves jumped into your shoulders at the thought of yet more tests and other things that could follow. To his credit he hums a low note of apology, and then starts working his hands into your back, digging the heels in and working up and down for what he can reach with the lack of give to the fabric. It feels amazing. Your purr starts up low despite yourself.

What feels less amazing is him trying to wrestle the tunic off you a moment later, wet fabric trapped underneath your body. You meow in protest.

'Come on, it'll be so much easier.'

'You're fucking sitting on me!'

'Just put your arms up--'

One of your arms whacks against the circular end of your rack as he tries to manhandle you. 'The fucking rack's in the way--'

Laughter cuts your argument. 'What do we have here?'

Your face is forcibly pressed into the mattress but you don't have to look to recognise Kote, his voice only feet away on the ladder. You groan.

'He's got the thing,' Wolffe explains, very unhelpfully in your opinion, but Kote hums thoughtfully. 'We need a name for it,' Wolffe adds.

'How about abject misery?' you suggest, still pinned in an awkward position by Wolffe and your tunic. You hate these bastards, you swear.

‘Quit sitting on him.’

There's a lot of indignant meowing and various amounts of weight on top of you. You take the opportunity to do some wriggling of your own and get out of your fucking tunic, throwing it uncermoniously to the floor, though can’t quite manage to turn around to no longer be pressed face first into the mattress, fuck abject misery and it making you too feeble to throw them off. You make a loud sharp noise in protest when somebody’s knee presses your tender stomach a little too hard against the mattress. ‘Hey! Get off!’

They obey, thankfully, enough so that you can turn around proper and sit up and glare at them. ‘What happened to helping?’

‘I  _ was _ helping--’

‘You need bodily contact,’ Kote cuts him off.

‘So you made me stop sitting on him. Perfect fuckin logic.’

‘You trapped him in his shirt!’ He sounds so indignant for a moment, but when Wolffe opens his mouth to laugh Kote surges to kiss him, back to dominance, pressing him back against the wall. Wolffe snarls softly at him and he bears his teeth back before settling back on the ladder. ‘One of us should sit behind you,’ he continues easily.

‘How do you know this?’ Wolffe demands. ‘You knew what to do for me, too.’ You stopped paying attention to them the other night after they started fighting, but now you’re with Wolffe, curious after this special information Kote’s dredged up. Though it’s probably just from--

‘Alpha,’ Kote explains, which yeah, is where he gets most of his information the rest of you aren’t privy to. He clambers around you while he talks, trying to get behind you on the small bunk. You shift forward to let him. ‘You’re B-type too, aren’t you Fox?’

You nod, remembering hearing that phrase a lot while you laid still and put up with the tests. He manages to sit down behind you and pulls off his own tunic before pulling you onto his lap, against his chest. You allow it because his skin against yours is the best thing to ever fucking happen to you, chasing away what’s starting to turn to clamminess, his arms secure around your chest. Wolffe sheds his shirt too and drapes himself on your front, also nice, though slightly less so, your stomach sensitive to touch, but he does trace his hand down your arm and squeeze its way back up, and that feels good, your purr encouraged to start back up again, Kote’s joining it.

They settle each of their heads on each of your shoulders. Kote nuzzles against your neck and the side of your face. He smells so nice, even through the thick smell of your own sweat. You turn your head to bury against his, soft hair, tighter curled than yours, soft with his own sweat. When the fuck did your brother’s fucking sweat start smelling so good. Not that you’re complaining; it’s kind of-- comforting, in a way you haven’t felt comforted in a long time. Wolffe meanwhile worms his other hand to your side to massage there, repeated handfuls of muscle and fat.

Kote flicks his tongue out to lick the curve of your neck. It sends a shiver of nervousness through you even though there’s no physical discomfort. He kisses, nips, presses his whole tongue flat, and something in you feels settled and unsettled at once. You make a small noise. ‘Stop.’

They both stop, Wolffe’s hands going still, and Kote picking his head up to look at you. ‘Kote,’ you elaborate, though Wolffe doesn’t keep going, just settles his head back down.

‘Which part?’

‘Tongue.’

‘Okay. Is holding you-- does this help?’

‘Yeah.’ You press your face back in against his, butt up against him and his lovely warm smell. A part of you still feels shaky, a little unsettled, and maybe you’re quivering. Wolffe picks his head up again too.

‘Fox--’ he starts.

‘What.’ You’re not in a mood to talk, you’re only in a mood to not feel so goddamn miserable. ‘It’s the thing, I’m fine.’

‘Fox, we should talk about this.’

You know what he means, this not being the first time you’ve reacted like this, while the others kiss and lick and touch each other, friendly and soft and dominant, just additions to the ways you’d touch when you were younger. ‘I don’t want to fucking talk.’

‘You won’t let us touch you,’ Wolffe says, voice different from how it normally is, not biting but serene and detached and it makes your stomach flip over.

‘What do you think this is,  _ shabiir,’ _ you growl, and Kote nips your ear in warning.

‘You know what I mean.’

‘I don’t like it and I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘He has the fucking misery, Wolffe, leave him alone,’ Kote barks. Wolffe bares his teeth at him and Kote bears them back with a snarl. You’re command track so you don’t have a sergeant but Kote is the leader in your squad, no matter Wolffe’s posturing.

‘Why are you so apart from us,’ Wolffe insists, back to that strange tone, eyes locking on yours til you look away.

‘I’m not.’ A thread of shame beads in your throat. ‘I’m fucking not and you know it.’

‘You don’t play with us anymore.’ He bears his weight down on you more, pressing you against Kote, which feels great on your chest but not so much on your stomach. ‘You don’t even fight, and you won’t let us touch you.’

Kote grabs Wolffe by the back of his hair to yank him away. ‘Not the fucking time.’

‘When?’ Wolffe barks, sitting back on his haunches as he shoves loose. ‘Where are you going in your head,  _ vod? _ Where are you?’

You snarl at him. You’re ill and you’re stressed and you know he’s right and you’re wrong and you don’t have the words for it, and your not wanting to talk only drives it further. It’s just been harder and harder to get along, is all, feeling nervous about being kissed and touched like they’re learning to do with each other, but there’s other parts of it you can’t name, too, this invisible distance. Finding comfort and safety in being alone. Your rack is still open at night but only Bly ever climbs in with you anymore, and with decreasing frequency.

You don’t have an answer for him, and to your horror tears start to well up in the corners of your eyes. It’s this fucking misery bullshit, you don’t  _ cry, _ you haven’t cried in years, long before command track and these bastards, but now your body’s fucked up and not your own and you can’t fucking help it.

Wolffe drops the aggression at once, and you hate the concern you see in his face. ‘Fuck you,’ you spit, with nothing else left.

‘Sorry,’ he says, quietly, shoulders dropping. ‘I’m-- I’m sorry, Fox.’

‘No you’re not.’

‘I am,’ he insists. ‘I mean I’m not sorry for asking but I’m sorry for getting mad about it.’

That’s fair. ‘It’s this fucking misery,’ Kote says, practically echoing your thoughts. ‘You’re so fucking worked up, Wolffe, I don’t think you’re cured of it.’

Wolffe starts to part his lips for a snarl but changes his mind, ducking his head. ‘Fox can do what he wants,’ Kote reiterates.

‘I know that.’

‘So stop being an asshole.’

‘I just want to know--’ he cuts off into a frustrated noise.  _ ‘Tion’gar vaii, _ Fox?’

You don’t have an answer for him. Not a truthful one at least. ‘You climbed up here with me,’ you say in place of one.

‘I miss you.’

You look away, ashamed. Ashamed of all of this, the misery, and pulling away from your brothers even though you know you shouldn’t, and not wanting to be kissed and and licked and caressed even though you don’t mind snuggling and biting and all the rest of it really. You’ve never even touched yourself, in the ways you know they touch each other, quick in the showers or climbing into each other’s bunks, because it fills you with that same sort of dread, this nervousness and fear you can’t place. Even Kote’s arms around you now make you nervous, given the conversation you’re having, but the misery has quieted enough from his touch that you’re not going to push him away.

‘Fox,’ Wolffe entreats.

‘Stop sounding like that. I’m not broken.’

He flinches, you see as you glance towards him again. The sweat still dripping down your face only makes this all the more unpleasant. ‘I don’t think you’re broken.’

‘What, then?’

‘I don’t know! Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?’

‘Because  _ I don’t know.’ _

‘This is stupid,’ Kote cuts across y’all. ‘It’s okay, you know. Both of you. It’s all okay.’

‘You miss him too,’ Wolffe says. ‘You said so.’

You turn your head to look at him, no room to do it proper, but you can turn your face to rest against his skin and hair again. You have a nervousness about this whole thing, different from the other nervousness, more something in your heart than your skin. How many people have been talking about you, for how long? Just how much have you been doing wrong?

Kote makes a noise, unhappy affirmation. ‘I like seeing you, Fox, that’s all. You spend so much time alone.’

‘You still see me all day, practically,’ you protest not because he’s wrong but because you want to defend yourself.

‘I know. Like I said, it’s okay. I’m not mad.’

But he is something, they both are something you can’t quite name, and it’s your fault for being like this. ‘Are Bly and Ponds...’

‘Bly misses you too,’ Wolffe says. ‘Of course Ponds is being Ponds about it.’

‘You two don’t tell Ponds you miss him, I bet.’

‘Ponds has always been like this.’

‘So what, I can’t change?’

‘Stop twisting what I say.’

‘Stop asking him things!’ Kote snarls. ‘He said he doesn’t know.’

‘I didn’t ask him anything, that was him!’

Kote lets go of you to drag him closer. You’re pressed between them as he kisses Wolffe then bites him. Wolffe snarls faintly but doesn’t pull back, conceding. ‘Shut up or get out. I’m seeing to our  _ kih’vod.’ _

You’re a little incensed by being referred to as such, even though you’re far from dominant in this squad.  _ Rex _ is the baby. Still, you’re grateful for what seems to be an end to the argument. Wolffe huffs and settles down to cover your front again in a comfortable weight. Though settling back down into physical comfort you still feel unsettled about the way they feel about you. The things they’re thinking.

‘I’m not,’ you say into the silence that follows, ‘Broken, or anything, you know.’ It’s a fear that runs as cold in your veins as it does in any other  _ vod. _

‘I know,’ Wolffe says. ‘I don’t think you are. I just...’ he trails off.

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ you say, but you also don’t want them thinking of you like this, the baby, the  _ cabur'yc, _ like you can’t handle yourself and you don’t know what you’re doing.

You don’t know what you’re doing. But you can take care of yourself. Wolffe makes a noise, settling down again, rubbing his face against your shoulder before stilling again.

Eventually he asks, ‘Will you come back?’

That’s equally hard to answer, equal parts of you saying yes and no. ‘I don’t know if I can.’

_ ‘Vod’ika. _ Let us help you.’

‘I don’t need help.’ You’re surer of that than anything else. ‘I just-- don’t like it.’

‘Don’t like us?’ He picks his head up and Kote reaches to tug his hair in warning.

‘No,’ you say, snarling at the misinterpretation. ‘No, fuck. I just don’t like being touched like that. Or kissed. Or any of it.’

Wolffe looks relieved, which is not what you were expecting to see. ‘Why didn’t you just say?’

‘I do say but then it ruins it for you, I said to Kote and you started fucking questioning--’ You blink angrily. You are not going to cry again.

‘I thought you didn’t want  _ us,’ _ Wolffe admits into the crook of your neck, settling his head back down.

‘... Oh.’

Kote strokes Wolffe’s hair, and rubs his face against yours. ‘We thought you were just... pulling away,’ he confirms.

Maybe you were. Your throat feels tight. ‘It’s just you all-- and I don’t like it.’

‘Do you like this?’ Wolffe asks, voice earnest.

‘Yeah,’ you say, throat still tight. ‘I do.’ Tears prick at your eyes, threatening you again. That’s what they all thought? ‘I like you. And I like Kote, and Bly, and Rex and fucking Ponds and I don’t mind everyone else in the barracks and kriff, Wolffe, that’s not what this is. I don’t know what this is.’

‘Does it hurt? Whatever it is?’

You think about it and shrug, shoulders pressing up against their faces. ‘I don’t know. I guess so. I just... I don’t like being kissed and so I can’t mess around and play with you all anymore because it always fucking gets into that and if I ask to stop it gets weird-- I mean I asked Kote to stop and you got weird--’

‘I didn’t know what this was about,’ he insists. ‘Of course I’ll stop if you say to stop.’

‘I know! I know you all will. But it won’t be the same.’ That’s the gist of it, you guess, something settling small within you. Things just aren’t the same. It used to be so much easier, before they all started learning what their mouths could be used for.

It’s part of growing up, you think, like this goddamn misery. You don’t have anything to compare it to, but it’s all changes. Time makes things change. You left your batchmates behind, and you lost the ease you once had with your new squad.

You got different.

You know differences are a privilege, but you don’t think you like it. It’s not that you want to be like them, even, that you don’t want to be the way you are. You just want to be the same. You just want it to be easy.

‘You should tell everyone,’ Kote says against your shoulder. ‘Or I can for you. Our squad at least. If we knew, we just wouldn’t.’

You nod. That makes sense, and you’ve been being stupid, but you’re still just... scared. You don’t want to be the odd one out.

Kote settles down more behind you, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. You’re not as sweaty now, at least, that part calming down even as your stomach still churns, a burning rising in your throat, the memory of feeling still imprinted inside you. 'I won't,' Wolffe says. 'Now I know.'

There's still something in his voice you can't name and don't know how to address, but it's beyond you, far outside the drain you're currently circling. You let yourself let go of it, let it fade into the amorphous fear that hangs like a cloud over your life. Wolffe nuzzles your shoulder. You bump your head against his, trying to relax into the touch. Kote is purring gently.

It's easier than you think, just to fade into what your body wants. You guess you missed this too.

**Author's Note:**

> ok like for real though a lot of my headcanons here arent even abo specific i just think teenagers in a cultural near-vacuum would be Like This
> 
> likes and comments always appreciated!! and don't be be shy to check out the rest of the series or hit us up on the discord!


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